


5 Things Wronged. 5 Things Righted.

by Sherlock1110



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Apologies, BDSM, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Dom John, Dom/sub, Kneeling, M/M, Naughty Sherlock, Punishment, Spanking, Sub Sherlock, consenual, crawling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:09:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has been misbehaving at the Yard. Again. John has had enough of needing to leave work to pick him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Things Wronged. 5 Things Righted.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

“Five times, Sherlock, five times in a month! That is a record by even your standards.”

Sherlock scowled. “I didn't-”

“Don't say another word! Do not even try to defend yourself, you fucking lost that right a long time ago.”

The detective was breathing heavily as John dragged him up the seventeen steps into 221B by his scarf.

He pressed him to his knees just inside the door. He locked it and then shed his coat, taking his time about it.

“Coat off,” he ordered sharply. He had to be stern from now on. No more soft doctor John until Sherlock had been sufficiently punished.

Sherlock slid his arms from his coat and John snatched it away, hanging it on the hook beside his own.

“Strip. And don't think of dumping your clothes wherever you please. Fold them up.”

His brat didn't respond, but dutifully stripped as much of his clothing as he could manage on his knees before moving to get rid of the rest.

When the clothes were folded to his satisfaction, he took Sherlock by the ear and dragged him through the hallway, then across the room. He ditched him by his chair. His boy hadn't eaten in days, so he was going to rectify that first.

The detective went to open his mouth when John walked away, but at the sharp inhale of breath behind him, the Dom turned and slapped him. His sub's reaction was what he expected, he bowed his head - maybe not accepting his punishment, but unwilling to argue at the present time.

Knowing for a fact that his sub wouldn't stay there without some form of incentive, he plucked a set of DI Lestrade's handcuffs from the drawer and order his boy's hands behind his back.

Satisfied the brat couldn't unpick them - seeing as his kit was in his suit - he strolled towards the kitchen.

Something plain and boring was all he deserved so he set up a few slices of toast and a glass of water. And he would eat it!

He took his own tea with him as he sat down.

“You are going to eat this, Sherlock, without argument. Any infraction of any of our rules from this point onwards and I will begin to increase your punishment. Be warned, I know what I am going to do to you, only you can make it worse. Is all that clear?”

When he didn't respond, John placed the plate on the table and snapped his pet's head back by his curls.

“I asked you a question. Is. That. Clear?”

Sherlock actually tried to nod, to John's severe disappointment.

“I have just doubled stage one of your punishment.”

“Yes, sir,” he ground out quickly.

“Better,” he shoved his head forward when he was done.

The Dom broke up the slices of toast and began to hand feed his brat. Sherlock turned his nose up at the food, but didn't comment.

“Why do you feel the need to make a point of being unimpressed or disobeying me at every stage?”

Sherlock just chewed on the next lump of toast rather than speak.

“I don't like water,” he tried to claim as John pressed the glass to his lips.

“Well, you're getting fuck all else. Now drink, Sherlock.”

Begrudgingly he sipped at the water.

“Now, as it's 5 times in a month. Your punishment is going to be five stages-”

“But-

John pressed his index finger to his lips. “Shut. It,” he hissed.

Sherlock fell silent.

“You deserve this!” He barked. He saw the look on his sub's face. “You deserve to be loved and treated the way a loved submissive is treated. Ignore what's happened in the past, I will not harm you, but I will hurt you. You need to learn, Greg does things to help you, no one else. Now go and kneel in that corner!”

Aware no more leeway would be available from his Dom he crawled to the corner.

“Now, it was to be 20 minutes of corner time, but your misbehaviour has made me double it. You won't move, Sherlock. I mean it. Moving will create a tally once it is over a number only I know of, I will double the second stage.”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered.

John watched on amazed. His sub did not move once. His hands were balled into fists behind his back and his head was low, but for the full 40 minutes Sherlock stared at the same spot on the wall.

When the 40 minutes were up, he walked over to his boy and let his hand land softly in his curls.

“Good boy,” he whispered.

“Am I done?” Sherlock asked, jumping to his feet and spinning around. “Can you uncuff me now, then?”

John bit his lip to stop from yelling and immediately the sub realised he'd made a mistake.

“Sir-”

“Kitchen,” he ground out.

Nodding for nothing else to do, Sherlock slumped over to the kitchen. He stood by the door.

“Sir-”

“Shut up.” He pushed him to his knees. “I was going to halve stage three, but you had to go and open your mouth. Like you always do.”

He turned the tap on and grabbed the plain bar of soap beside the sink. He lathered it up and broke a piece off. He pushed it between Sherlock's lips before he had a chance to refuse it.

“Hold it, brat. 1 minute.”

Sherlock's eyes darted to his Dom's. He knew exactly what the younger man was thinking.

Sherlock nodded his head just enough that John understood.

“Good. This part of your punishment is the way you speak to people. Me. And Greg in particular. Your attitude towards him is outrageous. He doesn't have to put up with you and I'm surprised he does. I suppose you have your brother to thank for that.” John checked his watch. “45 seconds.”

When the minute was up, John pulled his sub to his feet by his curls and pushed his head over the sink.

“Spit it out.”

Sherlock obeyed immediately and reached for the tap, but the Dom's grip increased and he pulled him away.

“No.”

“Sir-” he croaked.

“No,” he repeated. “We're not finished yet.” He pushed him to the floor. “Crawl to my chair.”

Whimpering slightly Sherlock crawled. He knew what was coming. This was the only part he knew was coming. The other 2 stages… he had no idea.

John followed, slowly. He sunk into his seat and pulled the brat up and over his knee.

“Are you going to safe word, boy?”

“No, sir,” Sherlock's voice was not above a whisper, but John didn't expect it to be.

“This spanking will consist of three parts. You'll get 45 strokes with my hand. 30 with your favourite wooden spoon and 5 with the cane.”

“Yes, sir,” his boy's voice was still soft; resigned. Good. About bloody time, too.

John started with his hand, spreading his palm liberally over Sherlock's pale white arse. He counted these strokes in his head, speeding up as he went. He'd have Sherlock count the rest, this was just the warm up after all.

“45,” he said when he was done. He used his not so painful hand to run it through Sherlock's sweaty curls. He wasn't crying yet, but it wouldn't be long.

Sherlock stared at the floor, his chin on the arm rest, he ground his teeth together as his Dom's hand fell. When he informed him he was done, he let out a silent sigh of relief. 1 down, 2 to go. The hand in his hair was oh so comforting.

Until John tapped him and told him to get on the floor.

“Go and fetch the spoon. Crawl. Do not get up.”

“Yes, sir,” he murmured around the foul taste in his mouth, it would be incredibly hard to ignore the idea of water when he reached the kitchen, but this was no doubt a test. He would not fail it.

When he returned, he didn't miss the small smile playing along John's lips as he took the spoon from between his teeth.

“You didn't drink.”

“No, sir.”

“Good boy. Now over the back of the chair. How many with the spoon did I say you deserved?”

“30, sir.”

“Of course. Count them.” He raised the spoon high and let the wooden flat yet slightly rounded surface of the spoon fall down from the air.

“1, sir. Thank you, sir.”

John made sure to line each stroke up beside the other, being careful not to overlap them. His boy's arse would be incredibly sore after the caning as well, he didn't want to cause unneeded discomfort.

“15, sir,” Sherlock panted, now crying softly to himself. “Thank you, sir.”

“Stay,” John ordered, retrieving the cane from the corner where it stayed.

“You'll count these too.”

“Yes, sir,” Sherlock's voice was a croak, broken and small.

John had to toughen his heart to not give in there and then. He told himself when he'd walked in the door over an hour ago that he would be strict and stern and he had to follow through with the rest of his punishment.

The detective yelled out at the first strike of the cane. As he ground out its number and his thanks he whimpered softly. He would never make John have to leave work to punish him again. Never.

He could feel each layer of the cane along his arse. The last one sitting right over his sit spot. He burst in to tears as soon as he'd thanked his Dom.

“I'm sorry, sir,” he whimpered. “Please…”

“Shh,” John let the cane fall to the floor with a resounding clatter and lifted him in his arms. He walked to the sofa and fell back letting his pet land atop him.

As Sherlock curled up on John's lap, his back being rubbed John brought up the last two parts of his punishment. The sub had hoped, although secretly knew, that his Dom had forgotten.

“You are grounded for a week. No leaving the flat without my expressed permission. Whilst on your grounding you will write 300 hundred lines a day for me from tomorrow onwards. The more you rebel the grounding the longer I will make it and thus the more lines you have to write.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy,” he leant over to kiss him. “Stay there, pet,” he whispered soothingly. He headed to the kitchen and collected up a glass of water and put the kettle on before returning to his sub.

“Here, drink.”

Sherlock drank greedily, guzzling down as much water as he could.

“Shh, slowly, pet. I don't want you to drown after all that.”

He smiled and sipped at a more suitable pace.

“I'm sorry, sir,” he whispered after a long while of silence.

“Good boy.”

“I really mean it, sir.”

“I know.”

“And I'll apologise to Lestrade. When I'm allowed out, I mean, sir.”

“Good boy,” he repeated, pulling him close. “I hate punishing you. But I love the cuddles we get afterwards.”

Sherlock snuggled in, not willing to let his Dom move from his grip for a considerably long time. “Me too, sir.”


End file.
